Alive

How much that one word means.

More than breathing.
More than brain waves.
More than wiggling a toe.
More than feeling raindrops on your forehead.

I was thinking today about being alive.

See, God wakes me up each morning with the blessing of breath. He gives me a new day, a whiteboard squeegeed free of yesterday's problems, and prepares a meal for two in the breakfast nook.

I have this choice: eat, fellowship, knit my heart with His throughout the day, and be wholly alive.

Or, I can rush by. My day after that? Brain dead. It's choosing to die, except that for some reason, God has me hooked up to the respirator. Maybe it's because there's still hope. Maybe it's just some coma that I'll wake up from. Maybe my analogy is falling apart.

But the point is, being truly alive means living abundantly.
I've seen how meaningless life is without Him. I see the effects of soul death every day.

God does, too, and all the while He reaches out to point us to Himself.

"Look!" He says. "You'll find it in Me!"

"Find what?" I ask, tired of looking and afraid of another dead end. "Who's going to be able to see me, and love me, and make me alive?"

"I Am."